


It's too cold outside

by unicornseverywhere



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Eren is a drug addict, Eren is a sex worker, HE IS A KIND MAN OKAY, I'm Sorry, Levi is just a nice stranger, M/M, Poor!Eren, Sad Ending, Song fic, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, ereri, i need to get my shit together, just read it, let the sadness in, riren - Freeform, that's not a summary, what even is this summary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:13:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornseverywhere/pseuds/unicornseverywhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The A team- Ed Sheeran<br/>song-inspired fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! I wrote this as part of a tumblr ask thing. If you want me to write one for you as well you can give me a pairing and a song and I'll write it! You can do so on my tumblr, here: http://whats-in-the-fucking-basement.tumblr.com/ or in the comments below!

A cold sidewalk. A paper cup with some loose change in it. A blanket thrown over his body. His hair, shaggy and greasy. His clothes, ripped and too short for his long, frail limbs. A small, broken smile when a beautiful man drops some change in his cup. The realization that he will never be able to repay this man. The sour taste left in his mouth at just the thought.

A public restroom. Tear stains down his cheeks. The redness of his face after he scrubs it with a passion. More tears when he looks at his own, special kind of eyes and see the numbness in them, and at the same time, the pain. A poor attempt at righting his clothes. A trembling hand in his hair, trying to make it more presentable. A long road, with honks and cat-calls. A car pulling in. Climbing in, going to a filthy motel. Turning off his mind. Crying. Getting his money and leaving more broken than before. A dark alley. A small bag, full of his only relief. A smoke, then two, then more. Craving. Going to sleep.

* * *

People tend to think that when you’re under the influence of drugs everything becomes a blur, and for some it does, but I don’t have that luxury. I remember everything in precise details. I remember it like one picture after the other. Moment after moment, like a photo-album in which I flip the pages. Except the photos are always the same. Same grey surroundings, same grey people, same grey emotions, same grey life. Even the smoke was grey. And even though I never thought I’d say it, I was glad when someone started bringing splashes of color back. I would see him every now and then. Every few weeks maybe. He’d drop some change in my cup. He always smiled at me when he did, and I got the feeling he wasn’t the kind of person that smiled often. I saw beautiful blues in his eyes. Pale reds on his cheeks, because his already white complexion was always flushed in the outside cold. Sometimes I’d see oranges and yellows and greens in his clothes. He was beautiful, and his colors made me smile for a little at a time, but that stopped as soon as he wasn’t around, and I would go back to grey. I’d go back to hating everything I am and do.

Living in a rundown apartment, selling my body only to buy some drugs that I hated with a passion, but they were the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins. Well, the blood that doesn’t spill from my wrists by my own hands. I hate what I’ve come to do, and how I got here. The cards life handed me haven’t been fair, but I’m not about to play the victim here. I was an orphan at a young age, yes, but so have many others who are well on their own two feet now. I was poor and dumb and hungry and all it took was one blow-job in a filfthy alley. I started smoking after to try to forget, with the little money I had. I needed more though, because drugs tend to do that to you. Tsk, what a fucking idiot I was. I am, I suppose. I don’t  deserve self-pity, that’s why I don’t give myself any. I barely have enough to eat and pay the shitty four walls I call home. All because my addiction.

* * *

I get up with a groan, pain shooting up my lower back, my limbs screaming at my every move. Some clients are worse than others I suppose. I wash my face with the freezing water that comes from my faucet, and I avoid even looking in the mirror. I count the money I made last night yet again and start making plans. I’ll need some food, cause I haven’t eaten a proper meal in a few days, with the rest I can buy at least 10 grams. That should be enough for this weekend. Yes, I know, I had it bad.

Eating in a public place was never something I did, not anymore. People stare and it only pisses me off. I chose to buy some cheap menu at a fast food and eat in my apartment. I grabbed my blanket, after putting most of my clothes on, and made my way to my usual spot, taking a sit, and making myself as comfortable as possible, considering the long hours I’ll be spending there.

He’s here again. I see him every few weeks. I don’t know why this interval exactly, but I don’t exactly question it either. He looks at me with something akin to understanding in his eyes, and puts a 10 dollar bill in my cup. It’s more than he usually gives, but I only give him a grateful smiles, and he leaves again, and I won’t see him for another undetermined number of days. Oh how I hated my life.

* * *

The routine I follow works out for me, well, as much as things could work out for someone like me. I’m sitting at the curb, like I usually am when I see an obviously expensive car pulling in, and I think to myself “I got lucky”. I go to the window, and I see him. I never wanted to see him in this situation. I wanted to think better of him. I wanted him to be the kind stranger, the person that didn’t stoop so low. Reality always does a good job at crashing my dreams. I smile at him nonetheless, and pretend my heart isn’t breaking at just the thought of him buying my body.

He smiles his little understanding smile and I scoff in my head.The window is already open and all he says to me is “get in”. No prices, no nothing. But I do as I’m told, because I’ve learnt that’s the easiest way to get things done in my line of work. I put my seatbelt on, and we sit in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. It’s nothing I’m not used to however, and I do nothing to try to change the situation.

 _“-What do you like to eat ?”_ I stare at him like he’s grown a second head, and I wonder if all this time I admired and had a crush (?) on someone who is batshit crazy.

 _“-Why?_ ” I ask suspiciously, narrowing my eyes at him. I have to remember to stop being hostile to my clients, but then again, this guy sounds less and less like some regular dude looking for a fuck.

 _“-We’re going to eat, of course. If you want, we can go to my place first so you can take a shower. Actually, we’re doing just that, it’s not debatable anymore.”_ I tried to come up with something to say, I really did, but my brain didn’t seem to be able to catch up to the situation, so after opening and closing my mouth for 3 times I gave up, and just stared at the road ahead. Suddenly the silence wasn’t as thick anymore.

We got to his luxurious apartment and I wasn’t even surprised by its appearance at that point, I was just going with it. I took a quick shower, he gave me clothes, which I was apparently obligated to wear if I was going to go out in public with him, and then we were off again. We stopped at a middle class restaurant, and even though I knew he could afford much better, I appreciated it, since he was probably trying to not make me uncomfortable. I appreciated all of it really, I was still unsure if I had had a little too much “fun” last night and was still dreaming. We ate in silence, for the most part. He asked me a few impersonal question, like if I was healthy and what I liked to do. He never mentioned all the times he had given me money, even though I was sure he remembered. He didn’t mention the reason I was on that street at that time, and I was grateful for that. Seemed that was all I was around him. Maybe a bit nervous as well, but no one needed to know about that. I learned that his name was Levi and he learnt that mine was Eren. We kept it at small chat, never going deeper than we were comfortable with.

And then came the time to go home, and I climbed in his car, told him where to drop me off, bid him goodbye and that was it. I had had one of the best nights in my life. But the next day it went back to normal, except it was worse.

Winter was closer and closer, my clothes were doing less than enough to keep me warm, my clients were aggressive more often than not, the drugs were more expensive now for some bullshit reason,and all I could ever think about was Levi. It had been weeks, but I still wondered why he took me in his car that night. Did he see something in me? Was there a chance he liked me ? Did he feel pity towards me ? It would be an understandable feeling to have, but the thought still left a sour taste in my mouth.

I was more depressed by the day, and nothing, not even my drugs, could seem to get me out of my slump. I thought about Levi until my very last breath, but it was cold outside, and I had decided to give up. I fell asleep on a park bench once, and I never woke up again. I might have seen Levi again if I did. Looking for me frantically at the place I usually stayed, seen the panic in his eyes as he asked around for me. But it was too cold, and I had waited to long. I just wish I could say I was sorry. 


	2. Levi's PoV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a really short continuation, but in Levi's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did this for the lovely person who asked me to, I hadn't planned to write more. I hope you like this! It's really short, but I tried

Freezing cheeks. A warm scarf flapping in the wind. A gloved hand removing a wallet from a thick jacket. Eyes widening. Sadness. Coming back. Driving past “his” spot. Dread. Worry. Taking showers. Daydreaming about blue-green eyes and hollowed cheeks. Wanting to do more. Sighing. One day. Sleeping. Going to see  _ him.  _ Fear. Wondering. Asking questions.

* * *

He should have known that asking around for the fragile beggar that always sat in that area would get him nowhere. He should have known better than to get attached to someone he didn’t know. He should have been there sooner, be there more. He should have -. 

 

Thinking of all the things you should do only gets you to your grave sooner, but I begin to feel hopeless against my better judgement. I know he can still be alright, and just not here. I know maybe he has… work. I know there is one other possibility that I refuse to think about. 

 

I make my way to my apartment on foot, because I always walk here whenever I want to see Eren, and I take the small shortcut through the park next to the complex. It’s cold today. Maybe the coldest it’s been all winter, so I bring my hands to my mouth and blow some hot air over them, even though I have gloves on. 

 

My steps come to an abrupt stop when I see someone laying on a bench not too far away. I would recognize that shaggy brown hair anywhere. I hear my voice in the quietness of the park before I realize I’m shouting, and my muscles work against me as they take me to him in a full sprint. I stop then, right in front of the bench. I’m not sure how to wake him up. I imagine it would be quite awkward for the both of us. I get over my hesitation however when I remember just how cold it is and think of how long he’s been here. 

I start shaking his shoulder slightly, but he doesn’t respond. I shake harder and call his name at the same time, and yet I get no reaction out of him. At this point, my breathing has started to be ragged and I’m more scared than I thought I could be. I wasn’t even considering this as an option, but I take my gloves off and put my hand on his wrist, trying to find his pulse, but there isn’t any. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. 

 

I was too late. I didn’t save him. I let him die when there was so much more I could have done. If only I had helped more. If I only I looked out for him. If I only I wasn’t too late. 

  
I get up,sit on the bench, and put his head in my lap. I thread my freezing fingers through his hair, and I only feel the tears when the hot liquid is running down my face. I’m so sorry Eren. My beautiful Eren. I was too late. I was too late. I was too late. I was too-


End file.
